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31_days2012-03-08 03:41 pm
metallikirk.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2012-03-08 03:41 pm
March 8th [Star Trek (2009) RPF] Not a Dream
Title: Not a Dream
Day/Theme: March 8th: Don't hope it was a dream
Series: Star Trek (2009) RPF
Character/Pairing: Chris Pine/Karl Urban
Rating: NC-17 (for m/m sexing tiems)
Notes: warnings for RPF, for those who may be put off by that.
Chris slowly roused from sleep, hazy dreams slip-sliding from his grasp before he could commit them properly to memory. The only images that he could remember with any certain clarity were related to Karl, his face gentle in sleep, a smile, the feel of Karl’s body against his own, the soft shape of his mouth against Chris’. Chris ached to feel those sensations again, to know that it was real and not just some random dream that he couldn’t properly remember.
He rolled over in bed, still thinking of Karl, gut twisting in disappointment when he realized that the bed, clearly big enough for two, remained empty, apart from himself. Chris sighed, knowing that it had been a dream, after all.
To say that he’d wanted Karl for as long as he’d known him was an understatement. Karl was everything that Chris desired, tall, well-built and with an accent that could kill at ten paces. The fact that Karl had turned out to be a major geek was nothing short of a turn-on for Chris and he’d spent the better part of shooting the first Star Trek movie pining after the other man. When the shoot had ended, they’d kept in touch, calling each other every month or so to catch up on old times. Chris had thought it had meant something, yet nothing had materialised between them, other than a few meet-ups here and there, shared dinners when they could afford the time, and those ever-present phone calls, coming with more and more regularity as the years went by.
And then the second Star Trek movie had begun to shoot and despite trying to deny himself and to bury them in his past, Chris had discovered that those old feelings had never gone away. Chris had still wanted Karl as much as he ever did, more so even, as though Karl had grown more beautiful, infinitely more desirable with the few extra years added to his age.
Chris groaned, eyes closing, feeling the first spikes of pain leeching into his head, a headache threatening and impending. He received a flash of memory, fleeting sense-glimpses of drink, of partying, of Karl. He moaned again, louder this time, one hand rising to rest upon the sheets next to him, sheets that were infinitely too warm to have remained empty the night before.
Chris’ eyes popped open again, mouth opening, yet no sound issued forth. It was as if he had been robbed of speech, rendered wordless in the wake of discovering he hadn’t slept alone. He racked his brain, trying to remember who he’d taken back to his hotel room the night before, yet came up short on all fronts. Only the memory of Karl remained, however, his dream taunting him perhaps.
“Hi,” came a soft, distinctly male voice from the en suite bathroom. “You’re awake, I see.”
Chris blinked at the sound, not wanting to turn over in case that distinctive New Zealand accent belonged to someone else.
“Karl?” he asked, hopefully, anyway.
“Yeah, Chris, it’s me, Karl. Who else were you expecting?” Karl asked, sounding as though he was now laughing at the confused Chris.
“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Chris asked, before he could stop himself.
“Unless we’re both sharing the same dream, then I don’t think so, mate,” Karl replied, still sounding amused, feet thumping solidly against the carpet as he trailed round the end of the bed.
Chris blinked, robbed of speech again as he stared up at the long expanse of Karl’s body, a portrait of gloriously tanned, completely exposed skin and flesh and bone staring right down at him. Chris found himself hoping, rather stupidly in his own opinion, that it wasn’t some kind of perverse dream, his mind playing tricks on him by presenting him with that which he most wanted.
“Chris?” Karl asked, worry replacing the former amusement now.
Chris shook his head, forestalling further comment until he could compose himself again. He reached forward, hand resting against Karl’s thigh, tracing upwards to rest against the other man’s abdomen. Nope, Karl was definitely real and really there.
“This isn’t a dream,” Chris announced, finally.
“No,” Karl said, firmly. “You keep saying that. Why?”
“D’you know how long I’ve wanted you, Karl? Four years,” Chris said, before Karl could answer. “What's happened? Why now? What did we do last night?”
“You’re not telling me you don’t remember?” Karl asked, with a sudden snorted laugh.
Chris sat up slightly, supporting himself upon his elbow as the bed dipped beneath him, Karl an added extra weight against the springs in the mattress. Chris concentrated, brows furrowed as he tried to bring the previous night’s activities into sharp focus. Once again, he received the lasting sense memories of drink and too much of it, of drunken, mutual confessions of wanting each other for years beneath the haze of a street light, of fumbling Karl into the back of a taxi and returning back to the motel room. The events after that were slightly clearer, of abandoning their clothes upon the hotel room floor, of coming together upon the bed and making half-drunken, needy, desperately loud love upon the sheets. He seemed to remember Karl being on top first, then him, bodies joined in a sinuous dance of love and desperate need for one another, of Karl crying out, of crying out in turn, of gentle, tender kisses shared afterwards, before falling into sleep.
“Well, shit,” Chris said, in surprise.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Karl laughed, as he watched the pleased smile tug at Chris’ mouth despite his words. “If I didn't know better, I’d say you regretted last night.”
“Who says I don’t?” Chris asked, teasingly.
“From the way you were literally gagging for it last night, I doubt it,” Karl said, as he scooted a little closer towards Chris.
“I was gagging for it? I seem to remember I wasn’t the only one. You weren’t exactly forced into coming here,” Chris reminded him, feeling the firm first weight of Karl’s hand against his side, fingers stroking slowly against his skin and sending skittering frissons of expectant pleasure coursing through him.
”Nah. I guess we both had a lot of truths to admit to last night,” Karl said, quietly, soft accent broadening his words out into something friendly, almost pettable. “You’re not the only one too scared of admitting to their feelings, ya know. Why d’you think I kept in touch for so long? It wasn‘t only because of friendship. It was because I had, and still have, feelings for ya, ya bastard.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before now?” Chris asked, raising one hand to brush a lock of hair back from Karl’s forehead, feeling comfortable enough in Karl’s presence now that he knew he was real and not a dream for that one gesture to be permitted.
“I thought you didn’t like me in the way I liked you. Until last night,” Karl said, ruefully.
“Well, hooray for double Vodkas and Jaeger,” Chris said, with a gentle smile curving his mouth. “We should’ve gotten drunken sooner, if that was the outcome.”
“So you do remember last night,” Karl stated rather than asked, with a laugh that tipped his head back and exposed the long line of his neck to the light and Chris’ very interested gaze
“I don’t know, Karl. Perhaps you could refresh my memory?” Chris asked, hopefully, trailing one hand down Karl’s neck and resting his palm against the other man’s naked chest, directly above Karl’s heart.
He could feel the other man’s heart rate picking up, heart beating strongly inside him as Karl stared at him. Neither spoke; instead, Chris moved forward, closing the distance between them to press eager lips against Karl’s own. The warm press of the other man’s mouth was better in reality, firmer than his half remembered memories of the drunken night before, tasting sweetly of mint and something exclusive to Karl. He licked his way inside Karl’s mouth, feeling the other man’s fingers dipping down his body, teasing him with little pinches and caresses, before his fingers moved to cup Chris’ balls teasingly. Chris broke the kiss, breathing harsh and needy, pupils blown so wide, they swallowed the bright blue of his eyes. Karl watched him come undone as he touched him, fingers massaging the other man and moving to rub gently at his cock.
“Please,” Chris said, quietly, voice wrecked and needy as his hips moved in time with Karl’s questing fingers.
Karl made a noise of assent, before moving in to claim Chris’ mouth again, easing him onto his back as he did so. It didn’t take long to prepare Chris, already stretched and ready from the night before and their love-making that time was slow, measured, less frantic and needy than the night before. Chris’ body arched up against Karl’s, enjoying the feel of the other man over him, against him, inside him, mouth a constant pressure against his pulse point as they slowly made love. And when Chris came that time, he did so with Karl’s name on his lips and desperate need in his voice, eyes closed and body shuddering with his need. Karl’s soft murmur of Chris’ name was whispered against his neck, gentle, soothing, needy, tender.
And as they cycled down from mutual need, hands constantly tracing patterns against sweat soaked skin, Chris was glad that it wasn’t a dream after all. It was as if four years of need, of want, of desperate fear of not having that which he most wanted had culminated in this, of getting everything he desired and being wanted in turn, while discovering that Karl was far better than he possibly could ever have imagined.
Day/Theme: March 8th: Don't hope it was a dream
Series: Star Trek (2009) RPF
Character/Pairing: Chris Pine/Karl Urban
Rating: NC-17 (for m/m sexing tiems)
Notes: warnings for RPF, for those who may be put off by that.
Chris slowly roused from sleep, hazy dreams slip-sliding from his grasp before he could commit them properly to memory. The only images that he could remember with any certain clarity were related to Karl, his face gentle in sleep, a smile, the feel of Karl’s body against his own, the soft shape of his mouth against Chris’. Chris ached to feel those sensations again, to know that it was real and not just some random dream that he couldn’t properly remember.
He rolled over in bed, still thinking of Karl, gut twisting in disappointment when he realized that the bed, clearly big enough for two, remained empty, apart from himself. Chris sighed, knowing that it had been a dream, after all.
To say that he’d wanted Karl for as long as he’d known him was an understatement. Karl was everything that Chris desired, tall, well-built and with an accent that could kill at ten paces. The fact that Karl had turned out to be a major geek was nothing short of a turn-on for Chris and he’d spent the better part of shooting the first Star Trek movie pining after the other man. When the shoot had ended, they’d kept in touch, calling each other every month or so to catch up on old times. Chris had thought it had meant something, yet nothing had materialised between them, other than a few meet-ups here and there, shared dinners when they could afford the time, and those ever-present phone calls, coming with more and more regularity as the years went by.
And then the second Star Trek movie had begun to shoot and despite trying to deny himself and to bury them in his past, Chris had discovered that those old feelings had never gone away. Chris had still wanted Karl as much as he ever did, more so even, as though Karl had grown more beautiful, infinitely more desirable with the few extra years added to his age.
Chris groaned, eyes closing, feeling the first spikes of pain leeching into his head, a headache threatening and impending. He received a flash of memory, fleeting sense-glimpses of drink, of partying, of Karl. He moaned again, louder this time, one hand rising to rest upon the sheets next to him, sheets that were infinitely too warm to have remained empty the night before.
Chris’ eyes popped open again, mouth opening, yet no sound issued forth. It was as if he had been robbed of speech, rendered wordless in the wake of discovering he hadn’t slept alone. He racked his brain, trying to remember who he’d taken back to his hotel room the night before, yet came up short on all fronts. Only the memory of Karl remained, however, his dream taunting him perhaps.
“Hi,” came a soft, distinctly male voice from the en suite bathroom. “You’re awake, I see.”
Chris blinked at the sound, not wanting to turn over in case that distinctive New Zealand accent belonged to someone else.
“Karl?” he asked, hopefully, anyway.
“Yeah, Chris, it’s me, Karl. Who else were you expecting?” Karl asked, sounding as though he was now laughing at the confused Chris.
“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” Chris asked, before he could stop himself.
“Unless we’re both sharing the same dream, then I don’t think so, mate,” Karl replied, still sounding amused, feet thumping solidly against the carpet as he trailed round the end of the bed.
Chris blinked, robbed of speech again as he stared up at the long expanse of Karl’s body, a portrait of gloriously tanned, completely exposed skin and flesh and bone staring right down at him. Chris found himself hoping, rather stupidly in his own opinion, that it wasn’t some kind of perverse dream, his mind playing tricks on him by presenting him with that which he most wanted.
“Chris?” Karl asked, worry replacing the former amusement now.
Chris shook his head, forestalling further comment until he could compose himself again. He reached forward, hand resting against Karl’s thigh, tracing upwards to rest against the other man’s abdomen. Nope, Karl was definitely real and really there.
“This isn’t a dream,” Chris announced, finally.
“No,” Karl said, firmly. “You keep saying that. Why?”
“D’you know how long I’ve wanted you, Karl? Four years,” Chris said, before Karl could answer. “What's happened? Why now? What did we do last night?”
“You’re not telling me you don’t remember?” Karl asked, with a sudden snorted laugh.
Chris sat up slightly, supporting himself upon his elbow as the bed dipped beneath him, Karl an added extra weight against the springs in the mattress. Chris concentrated, brows furrowed as he tried to bring the previous night’s activities into sharp focus. Once again, he received the lasting sense memories of drink and too much of it, of drunken, mutual confessions of wanting each other for years beneath the haze of a street light, of fumbling Karl into the back of a taxi and returning back to the motel room. The events after that were slightly clearer, of abandoning their clothes upon the hotel room floor, of coming together upon the bed and making half-drunken, needy, desperately loud love upon the sheets. He seemed to remember Karl being on top first, then him, bodies joined in a sinuous dance of love and desperate need for one another, of Karl crying out, of crying out in turn, of gentle, tender kisses shared afterwards, before falling into sleep.
“Well, shit,” Chris said, in surprise.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Karl laughed, as he watched the pleased smile tug at Chris’ mouth despite his words. “If I didn't know better, I’d say you regretted last night.”
“Who says I don’t?” Chris asked, teasingly.
“From the way you were literally gagging for it last night, I doubt it,” Karl said, as he scooted a little closer towards Chris.
“I was gagging for it? I seem to remember I wasn’t the only one. You weren’t exactly forced into coming here,” Chris reminded him, feeling the firm first weight of Karl’s hand against his side, fingers stroking slowly against his skin and sending skittering frissons of expectant pleasure coursing through him.
”Nah. I guess we both had a lot of truths to admit to last night,” Karl said, quietly, soft accent broadening his words out into something friendly, almost pettable. “You’re not the only one too scared of admitting to their feelings, ya know. Why d’you think I kept in touch for so long? It wasn‘t only because of friendship. It was because I had, and still have, feelings for ya, ya bastard.”
“Why didn’t you say anything before now?” Chris asked, raising one hand to brush a lock of hair back from Karl’s forehead, feeling comfortable enough in Karl’s presence now that he knew he was real and not a dream for that one gesture to be permitted.
“I thought you didn’t like me in the way I liked you. Until last night,” Karl said, ruefully.
“Well, hooray for double Vodkas and Jaeger,” Chris said, with a gentle smile curving his mouth. “We should’ve gotten drunken sooner, if that was the outcome.”
“So you do remember last night,” Karl stated rather than asked, with a laugh that tipped his head back and exposed the long line of his neck to the light and Chris’ very interested gaze
“I don’t know, Karl. Perhaps you could refresh my memory?” Chris asked, hopefully, trailing one hand down Karl’s neck and resting his palm against the other man’s naked chest, directly above Karl’s heart.
He could feel the other man’s heart rate picking up, heart beating strongly inside him as Karl stared at him. Neither spoke; instead, Chris moved forward, closing the distance between them to press eager lips against Karl’s own. The warm press of the other man’s mouth was better in reality, firmer than his half remembered memories of the drunken night before, tasting sweetly of mint and something exclusive to Karl. He licked his way inside Karl’s mouth, feeling the other man’s fingers dipping down his body, teasing him with little pinches and caresses, before his fingers moved to cup Chris’ balls teasingly. Chris broke the kiss, breathing harsh and needy, pupils blown so wide, they swallowed the bright blue of his eyes. Karl watched him come undone as he touched him, fingers massaging the other man and moving to rub gently at his cock.
“Please,” Chris said, quietly, voice wrecked and needy as his hips moved in time with Karl’s questing fingers.
Karl made a noise of assent, before moving in to claim Chris’ mouth again, easing him onto his back as he did so. It didn’t take long to prepare Chris, already stretched and ready from the night before and their love-making that time was slow, measured, less frantic and needy than the night before. Chris’ body arched up against Karl’s, enjoying the feel of the other man over him, against him, inside him, mouth a constant pressure against his pulse point as they slowly made love. And when Chris came that time, he did so with Karl’s name on his lips and desperate need in his voice, eyes closed and body shuddering with his need. Karl’s soft murmur of Chris’ name was whispered against his neck, gentle, soothing, needy, tender.
And as they cycled down from mutual need, hands constantly tracing patterns against sweat soaked skin, Chris was glad that it wasn’t a dream after all. It was as if four years of need, of want, of desperate fear of not having that which he most wanted had culminated in this, of getting everything he desired and being wanted in turn, while discovering that Karl was far better than he possibly could ever have imagined.